Thank God it was on the Linoleum (V.S. Part 1)

This particular mess started when I opened the front door and found a dead man in the entry hall. Luckily, it was floored with linoleum so the blood didn't stain. Thank the gods they didn't get him on Granny's nice Moroccan rug.1

Allow me to start a little sooner for the sake of clarity: gardening in the front yard, I'd heard a faint crackle inside. That would be that damn portal that my I and my grandmother made when my kid sister got kidnapped by demon revolutionists. We'd tried to follow them, and to make a long story short, it didn't go well. They--the revolutionists and my sis--got stuck in this alternate dimension, and I doubt we'll ever see them again. Too bad, really; I liked my sis. But I digress. 2

After sighing and pulling up a very stubborn strand of stickyweed from under my favorite rosebush, I levered myself up and went in to investigate. I'd barely reached the steps when another, larger crackle and a heavy thump emanated from inside. I froze. Pushing myself in where violence may be close at hand has never been one of hobbies, and I'm kinda paranoid about mysterious crackles and thumps. Call me weird. I was then gladder than ever that I hadn't gone in, because from what I could ear, extreme violence was ensuing within, thumps, twangs, cries and all. I squeezed the porch railing with all my strength, and then it stopped. I heard a rough and triumphant, "Think 'e's dead by noo? Ah'm thinken'so. Y'all're me witnesses, y'ear?" I could barely understand through the accent. I heard no reply, but I did hear another crackle, and a muffled "What tha'ell??" before an even louder crackle. 3

Breathing deeply and firmly, I opened the door wide, said,
"Stop it right...My god. Granny!!" and stared. 4

Truth to tell, I have never in all my born years seen anybody deader than the man that lay half in and half off the painted pentacle on the floor. He appeared to have been strangled, shot in the back with a crossbow at close range, stabbed in the spine, staked in the heart, head bashed in, neck broken, and throat cut, all at the same time. And nobody else was there. 5

I squeezed my eyes closed, and shouted again,
"Granny!! She came through the living room door, at a swift hobble. My granny looked very sweet and cozy, with the short greyish white curly hair, and the flower print dress and all; right now she looked at the ma, I mean, the corpse, like he was a plate of spaghetti that had just been dropped, sauce and all, and splattered over a great area, as spaghetti is wont to do. Come to think of it, the blood did kind of look like that. What a morbid thought. 6

"Deary me," Granny proclaimed, tightening her lips into a displeased line. "Get the mop, no, get that old wool blanket first, and lets move him." I had opened my eyes, and now dragged them from the dead guy and turned them to her with disbelief. He'd been horribly murdered on our linoleum, and she was talking of moving him?7

"But what about the people who did him in?" I asked.8

"Oh, they're long gone now, dear. Through the portal, to who knows where. They'll never find here again. Probably best," she commented wryly, as she stepped up to it and turned the body over onto its side. 9

This is my family. Never did the thought of the police cross our mind. As Granny says, 'they just muss everything up more than it already is, and don't really help a bit in this kind of situation.' I quickly jogged down the hall to the closet and grabbed the old wool blanket we saved for putting on the floor when we painted. The paint--or in this case, blood--wouldn't soak through it like it would a sheet. I jogged back. Granny was plucking a bloody garden stake from the mess with her work gloves. 10

"If they thought he was a vamp, they didn't need to do the rest," she commented sadly. I looked disgustedly at the object, and suggested,11

"Maybe they were just trying to be thorough. But he's not one, is he? a vamp, I mean."12

"Oh no, not at all. Too healthy looking. Here, lay that out here, and help me roll him on it. Put on a pair of gloves, though; you don't want to get the blood on you." 13

I took the pair she offered me, and lay out the blanket, pondering where Granny got the description 'healthy looking.' Dead people do not, to my mind, look healthy; they look dead. I suppose he didn't look as ghostly as vampires do, though. He was youngish looking, though I certainly couldn't be sure of his age; blond; and had an annoyed and slightly harrowed look on his still face. He was warm, and rigor mortis hadn't started kicking in yet. He was what Miracle Max in 'The Princess Bride' would call mostly dead, just past barely dead. Lovely weekend this was turning out to be. 14

We rolled him onto the blanket, and slid him alongside the wall. After getting a mop and a bucket of water, I started scrubbing the floor. If I started now, then it wouldn't dry and stick. I thanked the gods again that the Moroccan rug was at the dry cleaners that day. We usually used it to cover up the pentacle, as people were sometimes unnerved to stand inside its lines. I think it would be fun, when campaign season starts up again, or better yet, when the Mormons and the Jehovah's Witnesses come around, to leave off the rug and invite them in. "Oh, don't mind this;" we would say, "It's left over from Samhain. We keep it so we don't have to draw a new one every year." They would probably think it was for some annual heathenish ritual. Well, it had been, but we only did it once, so it doesn't count.15

After cleaning the floor, I rinsed off the mop and dumped the water into the garden. I figure that I was done gardening for the day, so I put away all the tools and went inside again. The body wasn't there against the wall anymore. 16

"Granny?" I called questioningly. She bustled out of the living room and smiled happily at me. 17

"He's on the couch. We'll leave him there until we think what to do with him. He'll be good for a day or two. More, if need be; I'm sure I can find some spell to keep a body fresh." I hesitated, not sure if I really wanted to ask. Against my better judgment, I did.18

"Good? You mean, uh," She nodded at me,19

"Yes, dear. Before he starts smelling. We'll just close off the room for tonight, and all will be well." 20

My god, I'd completely forgotten about tonight! Tonight was dinner with our new neighbors across the street. We'd invited them over to be neighborly, and Granny was going to cook her meatloaf and Yorkshire pudding. The new family was an older couple with a son around my age, and an elderly uncle. They also had a really big mastiff. The Keys, they were called. And here we were with a
mutilated dead body on the couch in our living room. Talk about complicated. But since it was unlikely that a family of strangers would insist on barging into the living room uninvited, I forced the frantic worries out of my head. I could deal with this. Nothing to it. Nothing at all. 21

"Well," I said firmly, "We'd better get cooking for the dinner party."22


The Key's were set to arrive at eight, so after we finished the meal preparation--Granny could time things so the food was out of the oven at eight-ten on the dot--I went upstairs to change. Not knowing what to expect, I chose a simple long plaid wool shirt, a cream blouse, and a brown fitted and embroidered vest. I'd gotten the outfit at the thrift store last week. For jewelry, (I knew Granny would insist, so I made it easier on myself by just wearing it) I wore a couple of African copper bracelets. Simple, yet undeniably jewelry. Ha. And did you know that if you wear them for a while, they turn your skin green? Neat, eh? 23

Looking in the mirror, I stuck my tongue out at myself impishly. I had tawny hair that naturally didn't know whether it was blond or brown. My eyes, equally indecisive, were either blueish green or greenish blue, depending on their mood. I heard knocking downstairs, and hurried down to greet our new neighbors, making sure that the living room door was closed and locked on the way. I was nervous as I let them in. 24

The mother, Anna, was tall and glamorous looking, even though she seemed in her late forties. Francis, her slightly paunch husband, was balding and dressed in a tweed suit. The son, Jasper, was tall, elegant, good-looking, and well dressed in a shirt and tie. He caught my eye meaningfully, and I pretended not to notice. None of them noticed the pentacle on the floor.25

"Oh, you granddaughter is so beautiful, Mrs. Sherbourne." said Anna politely to Granny. Jasper smiled handsomely at me.26

"Beautiful indeed. What's your name again?" he asked, oh so suavely. I grinned feebly at him, very aware of the living room door at my shoulder.27

"Viridian." I answered distractedly. It was going to be a long evening; I could tell.28

Halfway through dinner, drowning in meaningless chit chat and pleasantries, I heard something from the living room. My heart started pounding, and my face flushed. Granny heard it to, and turned to me apologetically.29

"Dear, could you go check on that?" She smiled sadly at our guests. "The latch on our living room window is broken, and does have a habit of being blown open." I jumped up, checking the unnerved feeling on my features, and stepping swiftly towards the door. Jasper, of course, tried to insist on following me, but I was very firm.30

"Oh no, I couldn't trouble you with that." I was into the hall before he could protest, and I heard Granny asking him about how he liked the neighborhood. 31

I cautiously unlocked the living room door, but only after taking the Japanese katana from the wall beside it. I figured that a couple years of fencing lessons might be handy if trouble appeared. What I saw dazed me, to say the least. The dead man didn't seem to be dead anymore. Instead, he was moaning ever so slightly and clutching his head. I held the katana ready at my side as he raised his head to look at me. He looked surprised and in pain. I didn't mean to, but I couldn't help exhaling sharply. (I refuse to call it a gasp.) 32

"Hello there," he said softly.33